


touch me gently

by seeingrightly



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 11:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15533640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: These dreams are becoming more common. Dreams about after the war. Dreams that assume they win, that they stay together, really together. Dreams that Newt doesn’t want to have because he doesn’t want to leave them.





	touch me gently

**Author's Note:**

> this is weird it's late and i don't know how in 2018 to tag a fic that takes place during the first movie
> 
> title from "andante, andante" by abba of course

 

 

 

 

Newt does this thing where he usually knows that he’s dreaming pretty much right away. It has something to do with the shifting perspective, how sometimes he’s himself in his body, but sometimes he’s kind of watching it unfold.

 

This one, he mostly watches unfold like a movie, or a scene out of a quaint TV show, something scripted and tidy. He wakes up in a comfy, giant bed piled with blankets, a bed he somehow knows is his. The fact that most of the blankets are on the other side of the bed would tell him who he shares it with if he didn’t already somehow know. He’s got dream memories of nights spent in this bed, even as he knows it’s not real because he’s not entirely in his body.

 

He rolls out of the bed and shoves his feet into his slippers and grabs a sweatshirt off the floor. Their heat is finicky, and it’ll be colder in the kitchen. He wraps his arms around himself and rubs at his arms and watches himself head out of the bedroom.

 

Hermann is at the kitchen table, his hair sleep-ruffled and his glasses on as he reads the paper. He’s got his robe on crookedly and his bad leg is propped up on one of the chairs. Newt’s chest hurts with fondness.

 

“Morning,” he says, and Hermann startles just a little, fumbles in grabbing his teacup and narrowly avoids spilling.

 

“Goodness,” Hermann replies. “Good morning, dear. I didn’t hear you.”

 

“Reading something that interesting?”

 

Newt rounds the table and presses a kiss to the top of Hermann’s head, placing his hands on his shoulders and leaning in to peer down at the newspaper.

 

“Not especially,” Hermann says. “Some nonsense about how to disband the remaining kaiju-worshipping cultists in the city.”

 

“Aw,” Newt says. “I’ll miss ‘em.”

 

“Will you really?”

 

“I don’t know,” Newt says, going over to fiddle with the coffee maker. “Kinda? They  _ are _ some of the only people who think my tattoos are cool.”

 

Hermann scoffs.

 

“Besides,” Newt continues, “you know our proximity to their hidey-hole is the only reason we got this kick-ass apartment so cheap. Good-bye cultists, hello rent increase.”

 

“That is true,” Hermann mutters, his focus mostly back on the paper.

 

Newt watches himself watching Hermann as his coffee percolates, leaning back against the counter. He can feel himself beginning to wake up, but he tries to cling to the dream, tries to keep it going. He should say something - what should he say?

 

“Hermann,” he says, awake enough that he can influence the dream now, aware that that’s cheating, that it’s more of a daydream than a real one.

 

Hermann looks up at him over the paper and smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

 

“God, I want to stay like this,” Newt says, or rather thinks, as he wakes up fully.

 

He shifts a little bit, trying not to disturb Hermann in the small space next to him. Hermann is curled away from him, toward the edge of the single bed, and Newt rolls carefully the other way, presses his forehead against the cool wall.

 

He could try to go back to sleep, so that he’ll be better rested when Hermann pokes him until he gets up to head to the lab together. More stragglers from the other closing Shatterdomes will be arriving today, and while none will be encroaching on their space, they’ll likely have to meet and greet, which neither of them is particularly fond of. He shouldn’t make things worse by being unrested and grumpy.

 

But he doesn’t think he’ll be able to fall back asleep, and he isn’t sure if he wants to. These dreams are becoming more common. Dreams about after the war. Dreams that assume they win, that they stay together, really together. Dreams that Newt doesn’t want to have because he doesn’t want to leave them.

 

Behind him, Hermann lets out a tiny grunt and rolls over, bringing his hand up to rub Newt’s back.

 

“Time to wake up,” he says, starting softly, much earlier than Newt actually has to be awake, because he knows Newt needs time.

 

Newt’s never witnessed this before, always asleep for it. Newt’s never seen Hermann be this gentle with him, outside of a dream. Newt’s chest hurts.

 

He’s not sure what he normally does at this point, while barely woken up, but he takes a risk. He lets out a small noise of acknowledgement, and then, with his eyes closed, he rolls over and into Hermann. He drapes his arm across his middle and buries his head in his neck. If Hermann knows he’s awake, he doesn’t say anything, just rubs his hand up and down Newt’s back some more.

 

Newt falls back asleep, and he dreams of apartment hunting, and the next time Hermann wakes him up, still wrapped in his arms, he’s okay with leaving.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [ch3ry1b10ss0m](https://www.ch3ry1b10ss0m.tumblr.com) or twitter at [coralbluenmbr5](https://www.twitter.com/coralbluenmbr5)


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